A quest for meaning
by PhoenixMateria
Summary: A sorcerer with a 1 million GP bounty on his head... Why? Does it have somtehing to do with that wizard? Is he truy dangerous? Read to find out.


Disclaimer: I wish I owned Dungeons & Dragons, but I don't... All proper nouns in this fiction story are of my making, and any resemblance with other names would be humourous... Anyone trying to sue me after reading this disclaimer will be sniped in their sleep by one of my agents. Anyone trying to sue me after being sniped will be bombed. Anyone trying to sue me after that is a zombie, and I will happily exchange my wealth for your forgivance.  
  
This is the first part of my second fanfiction. The main character is based on my sorcerer in D&D. I have no idea how this is going to turn out and I only write when I feel like it (I didn't have any ideas for even a title...), so bear with me... I know this intro sucks, so let's just go on with the story. R&R and enjoy! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------  
  
Chapter One: The Fugitive  
  
It was a morning much like the previous ones in the town of Nadar. Durnali spear guards flashed their polished gray plate armour and shiny egg helmets, as they strut passed the Medieval Oak Shop-houses. Their pebbled pathway soon connected them to the Main Street where buzzing crowds of peasants walked to and fro from the Farmers Market to their latter destination, carrying hues of orange and green crops while others, carted away oak barrels of cider d' ale from the South Brewery for distribution amongst the local Nadar taverns.  
  
The guards continued their patrol route to the Farmers Market tirelessly. But they soon stopped abruptly when an ale cart driver halted his galloping horses in their way, apparently, making a scheduled stop at the Clabero's Bread & Ale tavern.  
  
There, the obstructed guards merely watched on curiously, as the cart driver's assistant alighted and then walked to the rear of the cart. Hauling a barrel on his shoulder, the young male assistant then walked towards the tavern.  
  
Seeing this, the guards turned to each other with looks of agreement, as both men decidedly sauntered to the very same tavern for a thirst-quenching treat.  
  
But just as they approached, a roar of disturbing voices arose. Distinctive outburst of nondescript words could be heard, emanating from inside.  
  
At an instant, a glass shattering explosion erupted in the tavern. And the earlier entering ale cart driver's assistant rushed out of the tavern instead -- with a sensible mind to escape whatever life threatening danger that lurked inside.  
  
The Durnali guards, however, exchanged horrified looks, and rushed towards the establishment to investigate. Fearing for the worst, since their combat experience with sorcery affords them -- the recognition of such an invoked spell -- that whoever was struck down by it would surely be lying on the ground, either dead or dying.  
  
When they arrived to the door ajar, they raised their spears readily upon entering. And at their careful entrance, a shadowy figure leapt over one of the guards, startling the later.  
  
"I must've blinked," the Durnalis spearman thought, for he could not tell if he had seen something or if his eyes were playing tricks on him, as he gripped his spear tighter.  
  
Nonetheless, the Durnalis guard and his partner surveyed the scene. And from what they had process, there were three distinctive looking people in the room who were definitely wizards, and for some reason they stood a very strange distance from each other, yet having somewhat disappointed looks on their countenance. A table and some chairs have been overturned, a dozen smoking thumb-sized holes pierced through them, though no other potential targets for a Magic Missile spell lay in the vicinity. Common folk cowered near walls, some trembling and others too perplexed to seem calm.  
  
"Well, my good sirs" said Calbero, the innkeeper to the guards. "I believe he just passed the door, -- he did," he emphasized.  
  
But the guards looked at him baffled, still wondering what had happened here. It was not until Calbero finally gave them a scroll with a portrait on it that they understood.  
  
"I believe this is our man. Thought I recognised his face some' ere," said the bearded inkeeper to the Durnali guards.  
  
And with a quick glance back at the scroll's portrait, the printed image made the guards froze at its semblance, a moment before they took off -- twice the speed - they mustered before they entered.  
  
One of the guards fumbled for something before recovering his horn-blower hung from his griddle. "This is bad..." he thought. He blew as hard as he could, sounding the horn of Vigilance -- so that all of Nadar had heard.  
  
The man in question was an elf, a young sorcerer of merely eighty years of age. He was averaged height, had short black hair, green eyes, and those unmistakable pointy ears. Not much is known about him, except that there was a million gold pieces in bounty on his head.  
  
Only two conditions had to be met: not physically altered in an atrocious way, or in a way that could affect means of communication if he were alive.  
  
Naturally, the townspeople were baffled by the obscure choice of words to state the conditions. But then again, the king thought otherwise, and thought that -- it better not to impose that he be brought alive. In this case, at least, those who meet him won't hold back... Another interesting fact was that where the term "dangerous" would have been on the wanted notice, but the word "deceitful" took its place.  
  
The posters, however, flew off the walls too fast to make this a noticeable fact.  
  
Elsewhere, the guards exiting the tavern caught glimpse of a black cloaked figure running through the pleasant crowd. They ran after this man impatiently, yet aggravated by their heavy clad armour that slowed them down.  
  
The cloaked figure could be seen occasionally, often crossing the end of another narrow street at high speed. Because of this, the soldiers suspected that his movements were spell-enhanced. This noticeable fact only added to their frustration.  
  
Five minutes into the pursuit, the guards met with other guards who later joined in the pursuit. Soon ten men were seen at the trail of the dark cloaked figure that seemed to have outrun over twenty guards, including the earlier tavern guards.  
  
However, all that changed for the worst when the fugitive suddenly vanished at the next turning; lost to everyone's sight. It literally baffled them, since the narrow lane was a straight one, and the fugitive was not even far ahead. Only a stable could be seen on the left.  
  
To everyone's surprise, the sound of a horse galloping in their direction was heard. And a smarter and more skilful soldier readied his spear. As the horse could be seen carrying the sorcerer, he lunged his spear. Yet the spellcaster had no trouble evading the projectile, but fell to the ground in doing so. He then parted in the opposite direction from his steed, towards the continuing narrow alley. And everyone went after him.  
  
They all ran for half a minute more before they cornered him at an ending wall of the narrow alley. Much to their loathing, he simply sneered, warped slightly and then vanished from sight.  
  
It was then guards lounged their spears where he once stood. But all of it struck nothing except the solid masonry wall.  
  
Frustrated, the Durnali guards and started to complain immediately after the confusion set in. All of them assumed he invoked invisibility. Thus they all combed the area - inch by inch - and sadly found nothing. Apparently, the poster was accurate. The fugitive was indeed deceitful.  
  
A horse galloped in a less populated area of the town. It stopped and, within a second, shape shifted into a humanoid form. It was now an average- sized, dark-haired, pointy-eared elf with green eyes it once was. He clicked the heels of his Boots of Speed together, bringing an end to the consumption of its limited Haste effect and thus keeping a few minutes for a possible later use. He then proceeded to sweep some dust on his sleeves and replace his Hat of Disguise on his head. "Interesting town isn't it, Vaelor?" He took a blue-stoned amulet worn around his neck out of his shirt. "I mean the soldiers aren't worth much, but those wizards nearly had me there..."  
  
The amulet spoke back, though no mouth was to be seen anywhere on its crude design. "Stop being so humble, Alastar" it said. "You know as well as I do that they couldn't hit you with their best spells in a hundred years..." Alastar smiled. His and his old friend's hand-made items weren't going to lose to third-rate spellcasters... Plus he was the fastest, most quick- witted and most agile person in the realm. His cursed amulet-companion often told him how good a thief or duelist he could have become. "Still, I can't believe my rotten luck..." he said. "I mean, someone just had to sneeze near someone else, who backed up and bumped into me, knocking my Hat of Disguise off... It wasn't directly harmful, so I didn't pick it up ahead of time..."  
  
He suddenly stopped talking. He quickly obeyed to a mental command given to him by his permanent Foresight spell and rolled to his left. Just in time, too. A second later and a rogue wielding a sharp dagger would have gotten rich overnight. With a quick glance at his assailant's direction as he got up on his knee, Alastar noticed her prominent features. It was a young girl, a human, about twenty years old. She had long black hair, was a little shorter than him, with blue eyes. Half a second later, she disappeared. Though Alastar could easily read her lightning-fast movements and rely on his spell to warn him of danger, he stayed still.  
  
"What the hell are you doing?" asked the amulet telepathically. Alastar just stared at the tops of buildings as if looking for something. "Dash to your right!" said the ethereal voice. Alastar did not move. A dagger's cold blade lay on his neck in an instant, the rogue behind him. The weapon was covered in a thin layer of greenish liquid. "Poison..." he thought.  
  
"Alastar the Fleeing Shadow, I presume?" asked the rogue. Alastar snickered. "Can't you people have the decency of finding me a suitable nickname? Surely your intellectuals have nothing better to do... Nor do thieve and assassins, I see... Working in the morning and in broad daylight... Are you that desperate for coin?" He felt the dagger being pressed threateningly against his throat. "You do know that I need not keep you alive to keep the bounty, no? Truly, you should watch your tongue." "Go for it, then. Actions speak better than words..."Astonished by this response, the rogue nearly let go of her prey. "What did you say?" Alastar sighed. "Must I always simplify the most basic demands?" He then added in a straightforward voice: "Kill me if you dare."  
  
Assassins show no mercy or compassion for their enemies. A quick movement of the wrist slid the dagger across the soft flesh, ending the sorcerer's life prematurely. The limp body fell to the ground and bled. The girl did not however feel safe. For some reason, she had a bad feeling. She checked for a pulse and her fingers pressed against...nothing? The corpse vanished before her as she felt sharp, cold steel press against her throat. "Now, now... It's only fair that we take turns, no?" said a familiar voice behind her.  
  
Alastar had just appeared behind her and held her in the same position as he had seconds ago. "Well, we all know who I am, so let's finish the presentations, shall we?" He moved his head next to hers. "Who are you?" She gave a nervous laugh. "Just a normal thief and assassin, part of a local clan. Speaking of which, my friends might show up any moment now..." It was Alastar's turn to chuckle. "You lie. I've had time to inspect the area when you tried to strike me down. No one else is within eyesight." The girl stopped laughing. He was right.  
  
Alastar paced around the room. From Nyora, the rogue, he could not obtain more information than her mere name. He knew that neither thieves nor assassins acted in broad daylight. "I'll ask again" he said. "Who do you work for, pray tell?" She was bound by a well-tied rope in a corner, silent. He sat in front of her. "Just answer and I'll let you go. Lie if you want, but just answer." She couldn't believe his stupidity. She knew that he would really let her go as long as her story made sense.  
  
"His name's Schyloch. He's a wizard and he gave me some information on your location..." She stopped suddenly. She didn't know how those words came out of her mouth, because she actually tried to lie. How did she end up telling the truth? She stared at Alastar. "A Zone of Truth spell, huh? I thought only clerics could use it..." "Well, it is a cleric spell..." Nyora couldn't figure it out. All within approximately twenty feet are affected by Zone of Truth. Therefore, he couldn't lie either. She gave up on finding an answer, though, as her captor was unlikely to answer at all.  
  
"This could mean trouble..." It was his amulet, Vaelor, who spoke telepathically. Alastar was chanting in a low voice, waving his hands in a complex cycle of predetermined magical patterns. This lasted for about ten minutes, after which nothing seemed to have happened. "Even Discern Location doesn't work. He must be using his Mind Blank again... In either case, we should ask the girl agai-..." He stopped abruptly. He turned to stare at Nyora, who looked at him as if he was a freak.  
  
Alastar sighed and crouched in front of her. "Do you hate me personally?" he said. She shook her head in negation. "Well then... If you've given up on trying to capture or kill me, we would appreciate your help. Oh, it won't be free... In fact, I'm quite skilled in the fabrication of magical items and I'm sure some of my to-be creations would be of great help in your activities... We're after this wizard of yours and we'll need more than our skills alone." He paused for a moment, feeling obligated to do so under the questioning gaze of the rogue. "Do you have any questions?" She nodded. "Well, then. Shoot away, m'lady..." "Who are you implying when using "we" in your proposition?"  
  
Alastar grinned and once again removed his amulet from his shirt. "This..." he began. "...is my finest creation and most precious ally. You see... well... Tell her your story first, Vaelor." Nyora was suprised to hear the amulet speak much like an intelligent humanoid would. "Greetings miss. My name is Vaelor and I was once a respected thief. Perhaps you were too young at the time, but my name was almost a cursing spell to nobles and royalty at the time... It must have been twenty years from now..." "Fifteen" corrected Alastar. "Believe me, boy... Time is much longer when you're stuck in this useless shape, you can't eat, sleep or even fear death... Anyways, back to the main subject... Yes, I was probably the best-known thief in this country, and I had a bounty much like that of Alastar's..." "Stop kidding, Vaelor... Your bounty was only at six hundred thousand gold pieces. Plus the lower currency value, this makes four hundred to five hundred thousand... Not applicable now" he said as he noticed Nyora's eyes grow slightly wider with greed.  
  
Vaelor continued his story. "A group of well-trained government-employed wizards plotted my capture one day. A few days later, after hours of running, hiding and fighting, one of them ended up trying to trap my very soul into a gem. I'll hand it to you from this point, Alastar." "Fine. At that very moment, I was in the final step in the creation of a magic item, this Amulet of Proof against Detection and Location. I would be on the run in minutes, so I needed something to protect me from divination spells. That's when something went wrong..." Vaelor began to speak. "My soul was in its true form, irresistibly pulled towards the gem at a fairly high speed, when I found myself being pulled by another force. Miles were crossed in seconds and I found myself in this amulet, unable to move. I did, however, retain all of my mental capabilities and was bestowed a few magical powers. After Alastar's hastily told story, my choice was made: I would spend eternity helping outlaws like I escape from all these crazed do-gooders..."  
  
Nyora had agreed to help her new companions, and Alastar happily freed her from the ropes he had bound her with. She stood and stretched. "And what's your story, Alastar? Why exactly is there this bounty on you?" Alastar shook his head. "My story's a long one and it would just bore you... As for that bounty...well... You'll learn soon enough..." He reached for a pouch hung upon his belt and pulled out what looked like a miniature backpack. He then spoke a magical command word and the backpack grew to its normal size. He reached into what seemed like a dimensional rift inside of it and pulled out a rod.  
  
On command, the rod instantly transported them into the reception room of a richly decorated mansion. He then put the rod back into his backpack, shrunk the backpack and placed it back inside his pouch. "We have a hundred days to ourselves, though we can very well return to our original location at any given time. There are fruits and vegetables in the kitchen if you're hungry, and the bedrooms are upstairs. You won't age while in this non- dimensional space, but time will pass normally in the real world. I expect to hear all about this wizard after lunch. I'll start working on some items right away, so I'll be in the basement if you need me. And no peeking, or it'll spoil the surprise" he added in a childish tone of voice.  
  
With that, he walked up to a door, opened it, and closed it behind him. Nyora stayed motionless for a while, trying to gather her thoughts. She began to understand why this man had this great a bounty on his head. "And who knows what else he's capable of..." she thought to herself. She ended up looking for the kitchen: she hasn't eaten since last night and she was starving... 


End file.
